


captured

by RaineInTheDark (SinginInTheRaine)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), F/F, Held Down, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Not A Fix-It, POV Natasha Romanov, Rape, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, tied up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 16:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19407226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinginInTheRaine/pseuds/RaineInTheDark
Summary: The search for the Soul Stone takes a very horrible, very unexpected turn.





	captured

With an intense pounding in her ears and the world spinning around her, Natasha managed to lift her head and stare straight ahead of where she was lying. She could see it. The edge of the cliff was maybe fifty feet away at most. If she could just reach it before anyone stopped her, Clint would get the soul stone and this would all be over.

She summoned every last ounce of strength that she had — she had been taught that when she thought she couldn’t go on that she always could, and for once, she was grateful to the teachings of the Red Room. She managed to lift herself on to her hands and knees, her entire body aching. Thanos’ adopted daughter was a lot stronger in 2014 than she had been when she’d fought her in Wakanda in 2018, and she had been incredibly strong then, but she couldn’t let the pain — she was sure she had at least two broken ribs — stop her. A glance over her shoulder told her that Proxima Midnight’s attention was still fully focused on Clint, who was fighting valiantly but it was only a matter of time. Proxima Midnight probably thought she had knocked Natasha out with that last blow, so it was now or never, before the woman really did kill Clint.

Natasha turned back to the cliff and started to make her move, crawling slowly, achingly, toward it. She thought about trying to stand but she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her, and she would attract less attention closer to the ground.

She was now forty feet from the edge of the cliff … thirty feet … twenty … She was so close now. … Ten feet …. Five … She just needed to get a couple feet closer, get her legs under her and jump. … Two feet … She pushed up on her hands.

She yelped as something — someone — grabbed her legs and dragged her backward, her arms giving way and her chin hitting the hard ground, the throbbing in her head increasing at the same time.

“You think you can get away from me that easily?” a voice hissed in her ear.

Natasha felt a ball of panic well up inside her as she tried to flip herself around and kick out at the woman, but she had her in too tight of a hold. With a feeling of dread, she realized that other than her own thrashing, it was completely quiet on the cliffs of Vormir.

Clint.

She struggled in Proxima Midnight’s hold, trying to see where her best friend was. A cry left her throat as she saw a crumpled heap not far where she had last seen Clint and Proxima Midnight fighting. She couldn’t tell if he was alive. She needed to get to him.

Her hands dug into the rock below her, trying to find some purchase, but Proxima Midnight gripped her tighter and yanked her harder. Natasha’s head slammed into the ground from the velocity of the motion, and she knew nothing else

•••.

They were no longer on top of the cliffs of Vormir. It still looked like the cliffs, but she knew in her gut that it wasn’t. Clint was nowhere to be seen. Nor was anyone else. It was just her and Promixa Midnight, and the woman standing over her with a cruel smile on her lips.

Natasha was lying on her back. Her head ached, her bones ached. She couldn’t remember the last time she hurt so much. A voice in the back of her mind yelled at her to get up, to fight back, to run, but it felt like all the fight had gone out of her body. She was so tired and in so much pain and what had happened to Clint?

“You’re awake. Good.” Proxima Midnight’s voice was as cold as ice, and so were her eyes as she looked over Natasha. “I want you to be awake as I make you pay for your intolerance, you little bitch.” 

Natasha held her breath, waiting for the spear in Proxima Midnight’s hands to come plunging into her heart. She wondered briefly if dying close to the cliffs could somehow free the soul stone, or if Clint was alive to even receive it?

But the spear didn’t come. Instead Proxima Midnight was leaning forward, her fingers grabbing on to the zipper of Natasha’s time traveling uniform and she was yanking it down.

Natasha was so taken aback by the turn of events that it took her a few seconds to try and fight the woman off. She twisted on the ground, but Proxima Midnight used one hand to hold her in place while the other yanked her uniform down her body and off her legs as easily as if she were undressing a doll.

“You are mine, you little cunt,” Proxima Midnight hissed. She grabbed hold of Natasha’s wrists with one hand and yanked them above her head. Natasha gritted her teeth and tried to jerk her hands away, but Proxima Midnight was too strong. Natasha arched her back and tried to kick at her captor, but her legs bounced off the woman without causing even a minute amount of damage.

With a feeling of terror and increasing helplessness, Natasha tried once more to wriggle away from Proxima Midnight as the woman bound her wrists above her head with her own uniform. 

Proxima Midnight backed away when done, looking down at her prey, and Natasha internally cursed Tony for making their uniforms so damage-proof that she couldn’t pop a single thread as hard as she tried to pull her hands apart.

Proxima Midnight was now kneeling by Natasha’s legs, spreading them wide.

“Move,” Proxima Midnight hissed, “and your friend dies.”

“Clint’s alive?” 

Natasha clamped her mouth shut when she realized what she had done. Never let the other person have something to use against you. But it was too late. Proxima Midnight was smiling that awful smile at her, and Natasha knew she couldn’t risk it. Proxima Midnight might be lying and Clint was already dead, or she might be lying and would kill him anyway, but this was her only chance of getting them both out alive.

Besides, a voice in her head whispered, it’s not like she hadn’t been through situations like this before. Never with someone so strong, but she had survived before. She would survive now.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, forcing her body to relax and she felt Proxima Midnight rip her underwear and her bra away from her body, leaving her completely exposed.

Proxima Midnight looked up and snarled at her. “Why do you think?” she said. “You are trying to stop something you have no right in stopping.”

Natasha couldn’t help herself. “We have every right to stop it!” she said. “We _do_ stop you.”

Proxima Midnight’s fingers stilled on Natasha’s thighs. She looked up at her, almost curious.

“I help kill you in the future,” Natasha snarled at her. “And your husband!”

Whatever spark of curiosity may have been there was gone from Proxima Midnight’s face. Now she looked merely impassive.

“I highly doubt that, little cunt.”

“It’s true,” Natasha spat out. “We killed you then. We can kill you now.”

“That seems unlikely,” Proxima Midnight replied. Her fingers were moving again, trailing up and down Natasha’s bare legs. Natasha shivered beneath the touch.

“Do you like this, little cunt?” Proxima Midnight asked her.

“No.”

“Then why are you shivering?”

Natasha froze. Proxima Midnight’s fingers had moved to between her legs by now, gliding over her cunt, tracing every inch of her.

“I’m not,” Natasha said, trying to sound fierce but instead it came out as more of a whimper.

Proxima Midnight bent down, and Natasha had to close her eyes when she felt the woman’s lips close around her clit, sucking hard on her. She felt Proxima Midnight slip a finger roughly inside her.

She thought about trying to get Proxima Midnight talking again but the voice in the back of her mind told her to let Proxima Midnight get this over with. If Clint was still alive, she needed to get to him sooner rather than later.

Proxima Midnight seemed to be taking her time though. She was licking and sucking and biting at Natasha, her finger moving in and out in a rhythm Natasha couldn’t decipher — sometimes slow, sometimes fast, sometimes a confusing mix of the two. Proxima Midnight’s tongue lapped at her, tracing every millimeter of her labia. A second finger was added, and the thrusts got deeper and more relentless.

Natasha tried to relax her body, to make it hurt less. The cold stone beneath her seemed to be pressing into her back, her arms above her head ached and her body felt like it was being pushed to the limit, the fingers inside her ruthless and unstopping.

And then she felt it. That unmistakable heat pooling low in her belly and getting stronger with each thrust of Proxima Midnight’s fingers.

“No,” Natasha said, more to herself than to Proxima Midnight, but she had a horrible feeling Proxima Midnight had heard her. 

Proxima Midnight didn’t bother glancing up at her or even pausing in the slightest in her ministrations, but she did increase her pressure and her speed, and Natasha felt her back start to arch as the sensation became stronger and stronger, and she knew the woman had indeed heard her and was making her pay for it.

Natasha closed her eyes, willing herself not to let this happen, willing herself not to let Proxima Midnight take this from her. She had been here before, and she had never orgasmed. Why was this one time so different?

But there was nothing she could do. It was almost like her body wasn’t hers anymore, and the sensations were building and building, and then, with a flick of Proxima’s tongue around her clit, Natasha felt her body let go, and she was shuddering and crying as she came, and Promixa Midnight was laughing as her face loomed over her.

“I told you that you were mine, little cunt.”

Natasha couldn’t have answered, even if she wanted to. Her body was still trembling uncontrollably, and she felt the wetness pooling between her legs. Proxima Midnight’s face disappeared from her sight. Maybe she would let her go now.

A minute later, Natasha knew there was no chance of that. Proxima Midnight was pulling her legs apart again — Natasha hadn’t realized she’d closed them after she had orgasmed — and with a sinking sensation in her chest, Natasha felt Proxima Midnight push a finger, and then a second finger, and then a third finger, back inside her.

Natasha squirmed. Proxima Midnight’s fingers were bigger than she was used to, and she felt herself being stretched to capacity, even after her orgasm and the amount of wetness she knew must be there. Proxima Midnight used her free hand to push Natasha’s legs even further apart and push them up toward her chest, and Natasha felt the three fingers move even deeper inside her.

The heat in her belly was beginning to pool again, but this time there was an edge of pain that hadn’t been there before. Natasha bit down on her lip, trying to keep silent, but the fingers inside her were relentless, hammering harder and faster and Natasha’s body was almost bouncing on the ground from their rhythm.

Proxima Midnight added a fourth finger, and Natasha bit down on her lip so hard she felt blood splurt into her mouth. She tried to wriggle away from the sensation, but Proxima Midnight used her other hand to press down on her pelvis, keeping her solidly in place.

Natasha’s whole body felt like it was on fire, her nerve endings on high alert. Her breath was coming in shallow pants, and she could feel her heart racing. A moan left her mouth as her body tried to arch against the pressure of being held down.

The pain of the fingers inside her was increasing, but so was her arousal, and once again there was nothing she could do. The fingers moved inside her, and the sensations built, and nothing was stopping and her whole body was full and then she was coming a second time, and this time she was moaning through the entire thing.

But after she finished, when she was still succumbing to the slight aftershocks, Proxima Midnight neglected to remove her hand, and with a horrific jolt, Natasha realized she had instead inserted her thumb along with the rest of her fingers.

Natasha felt like she was being split apart, and there was nothing she could do. She twisted her hands, bound above her head, but there wasn’t any way to get free enough to hold on to something. Proxima Midnight had forced her legs even wider and higher, and Natasha had never felt as exposed as she did right then. With every thrust of Proxima Midnight’s hand, Natasha’s back scraped more on the hard ground, and she had an inkling there was going to be a lot of blood and bruises by the time this ordeal came to an end.

But it didn’t feel like this ordeal was ever going to end. Proxima Midnight showed no intention of stopping as her fist buried itself deep inside Natasha. Instead, the woman shifted the hand that was pressing down on Natasha’s pelvis so her thumb was grazing over Natasha’s enlarged and overstimulated clit, and then the woman’s whole body bent down so she could take one of Natasha’s nipples into her mouth, sucking and biting hard on it, and Natasha felt trapped and helpless and vulnerable, and she had an awful, awful feeling she was about to orgasm again.

She only had once choice.

“Please!” she sobbed, and she knew it wouldn’t work even as the words exploded out of her, but what else could she do? Proxima Midnight’s whole hand was deep inside her body now, and the pain was too much. It overwhelmed her, stole her breath and her sight. All she could think about was how much it hurt, how she wanted it to stop.

She didn’t even realize she was orgasming again until the orgasms wouldn’t stop coming, twisting her whole body in a knot of horrible painful pleasurable sensations that had no beginning and no end and those orgasms were all she knew. From somewhere in the distance, she heard the sound of cries that seemed like they might have been coming from her own lips, but she wasn’t sure as Proxima Midnight’s fist continued to batter her from inside.

At one point, she thought maybe Proxima Midnight was laughing at her and calling her a cunt, but then the world had gone white as her body had tensed yet again and this time there was relief. Finally relief. The sweet, sweet relief of nothing.

•••

She woke up once during the attack, she thought later, a hazy memory of Proxima Midnight fucking her with a toy while Proxima Midnight’s own hand was buried deep in her own pants floating through her mind, but she wasn’t ever entirely sure it was real and not just a dream.

When she woke up for real — maybe the second time or maybe the first — it was to someone calling her name.

“Natasha! Nat! Come on, Nat.”

Natasha tried to focus. She was still lying on something hard. Her entire body ached. Someone was next to her, but there were no hands between her legs or on her breasts. Instead, fingers were kneading through her hair, and it was gentle, kind.

She blinked, letting the figure beside her come into focus. When it did, tears sprang to her eyes.

Clint.

“You’re … alive?” It took every ounce of energy she had to say even that much. Her voice sounded more like a croak than like words, and Clint looked at her tenderly, like he thought she was confused.

“She got the Soul Stone,” Clint told her. “Proxima Midnight. She pushed her husband off the cliff. We need to get out of here. Before she comes back. Or Thanos does.”

Natasha tried to take that all in. She felt like the neurons in her brain were misfiring. Proxima Midnight had the Soul Stone? Clint was alive? _She_ was alive?

She wanted to ask Clint how — how any of these things had happened — but everything was still hazy and her body ached in a way it had never ached before. She wasn’t even sure if she had clothes on, but she couldn’t find the energy to lift her head to look.

Clint, however, must have been okay, because he was lifting her up and telling her to “Hang on!” and fiddling with the time travel watches on their arms, and then before she could even really take all of that in, he was pressing something and they were flying through time and space, and then Clint was stumbling off of a platform with Natasha still in his arms and she knew they were home.

She heard the gasps of the other Avengers, the loud rumble of everyone trying to talk at once, but she could barely make out any words and she still couldn’t lift her head to see anyone. Another person was taking her now, pulling her away from Clint and pressing her against their own chest. “I’ve got you” was whispered into her ear, and she knew it was Steve.

In the distance, she could hear Clint apologizing, telling everyone the Soul Stone got away. She heard Tony saying how that didn’t matter.

She wanted to cry out that it did matter, that it was the most important thing, that they had failed, that she was sorry, but she was so tired, so sore, so unable to make sense of everything that had just happened.

She shifted her head so she was resting it on Steve’s shoulder and closed her eyes a little tighter.

She would tell them soon, she would. She would tell them what happened and then she would find them another way to get the Soul Stone and then she would go find Proxima Midnight and kill her again.

But first she needed to sleep. And with Steve’s arms around her, she did.


End file.
